


Don't Give Up (Don't Let The Magic Leave Us)

by The_Secret_Life_Of_Tea



Series: And You Swear You're Listening; Can't You Hear My Screams? [1]
Category: WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Episode: s01e06 All-New Halloween Spooktacular!, F/M, Near Death Experiences, Not Wanda Friendly, Stream of Consciousness, unreality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29477685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Secret_Life_Of_Tea/pseuds/The_Secret_Life_Of_Tea
Summary: I am meant to be happy here.
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Series: And You Swear You're Listening; Can't You Hear My Screams? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2202801
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	Don't Give Up (Don't Let The Magic Leave Us)

I feel the glitches pulling the vibranium back from my head, and I know in that moment, I am not alive. I am somewhere in the in-between, I am something transient; not of this world, I am not in this world. I am elsewhere. 

I always knew she would have trouble allowing me my wishes, but never did I think she’d go to this extent. A sensation half-remembered, just out of my reach, spills across my servos: the rough grass pulling at my clothing. The bump of my head against the tile. My lifeless eyes, gasping in the same manner I am now. I blink and lift my gaze to the sky. The stars glitter. The night is quiet.

Of course death scares me. I am a synthezoid of facts and figures, but that does not mean I am without fear--logic is not the antithesis of fear. It is merely the justification for it.

We argued over my will. There had been screaming matches, slammed doors enough to jar a grown man out of his sleep. The DNR would be a constant reminder, she said, of the fact that she loved me more than I loved her. “I’ll do you one better, Vision, than dying for you,” she’d snapped, eyes like fire. They burned too brightly into mine. “I’d live for you.”

I tried to get it through her head. A DNR did not, and does not mean, for me, to let go; it means I have served my purpose and am meant for no more. Not to be crass or cliché, but a toy without batteries isn't worth keeping around. I was sure she’d find ways to move on; I was a part of her life, yes, but I thought--I thought--

How am I to stand it? Living like this is not living. The artifice in the air, it’s like a poor man’s substitute for sugar; it burns at the throat; there is no doubt it will cause cancer down the line, or another metaphor just as melodramatic.

I've never quite parsed the human tendency toward such… optimism, when it comes to matters of the body. Their battle-speak when they talk of deadly masses, their small, brave smiles painted on as they stretch out on a gurney, a needle pumping life into their arms. I used to think that was the human condition--to exhibit foolish hope in the face of futility.

I was wrong. Constant decay isn’t just for them, you know--battery acid renders us as obsolete as dementia does them. And I can pretend all I like to be human, but there’s a bit of irony when I feel my tongue hit my porcelain teeth. I can talk myself into circles, believe anything I’d like--or so she thinks. 

I am meant to be happy here. 

I am walking a path that has no end, no natural end. I’ve always feared losing her, and knew she feared the same, but… it’s really the inevitability that so tempts me. It is too easy to fall into the same old conversations, the same old tropes. Oh, it is too easy.

I am meant to be happy here. 

“Vision?”

I roll over, a groan cracking between my lips. The children watch. Pietro watches. She smiles at me, that radiant, saccharine, desperate smile stretching her face and tensing the muscles of her neck. I stand. She would be beautiful if it weren’t for--she is beautiful. She is. I want to spend the rest of my life with her.

I am meant to be happy here. 

I stagger-stumble to her outstretched arms. Fall down on my knees. Curl against her warmth: “Wanda.”

And the sick thing is, I am.

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to explore Vision here--I feel a kinship with him (not to go too far into it, but we're both in an abusive environment). Let me know what you think! Oh, and the title is from "Big Freeze" by Muse.


End file.
